"I don't really care about that. I care about people coming into this kitchen without permission or supervision after hours. You want to sneak around, that's not my business, really. I'm not a teacher or administrator. But this is my workplace." It was a bit more than that to Kayla. Her entire life revolved around the Institute, the X-Men, being part of the staff here. She had a very personal attachment to the kitchen. A lot of her happiest and worst memories were here.

Suddenly a horrible crawling feeling came over her, a rising awful panic. It didn't happen often, but something about the space being intruded on like this triggered something deep inside her. She could hear the knives shattering. She went visibly pale.


Kayla suddenly had to look away, close her eyes. And brace herself against something, because suddenly her legs didn't feel a hundred percent steady.

"You know what ... just let me do it. I know where stuff goes."